


The Evolution of Accommodation

by Itscomplicated



Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-04-24 10:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4915426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itscomplicated/pseuds/Itscomplicated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Love is a decision, it is a judgement, it is a promise. If love were only a feeling, there would be no basis for the promise to love each other forever. A feeling comes and it may go. How can I judge that it will stay forever when my act does not involve judgement and decision."  -Erich Fromme, The Art of Loving</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my fellow Gillovny Trash lovers! After watching The Concert, I'm intrigued by the newfound body language they display. These are my liberal pontifications on the matter. My apologies to the subjects that inspired such thoughts.
> 
> Sidenote: this is my first time writing fic. I appreciate any and all feedback! Thanks for reading.

The changes in their relationship have been gradual. As with the evolution of any species,  
their adaptations grow from the basis of need. Connection. Understanding. And always on the  
surface, the need of feeling significant and attractive in the other's eyes. 

Since the end of the series, they've learned to hone the skills required to be physically and emotionally available for one another.  
After two decades, they're yet again changing, merging closer, becoming something entirely different.  
Built on a relationship born of trial and error, familiarity and comfort, frustration and fame, they know what they need from each other now. 

The uncharted physical territory is a mission to concur, and they've turned the exploring into foreplay for all to see.  
Gone are the days of trying to run and hide from desires through avoidance or false assumptions.  
Rather than viewing their relationship as taboo to the public's prying eyes, they've found humor and acceptance for the ridiculousness of their situation. 

Being together is the easy part. The challenge they face now is being *together* together publically.

It's the physical changes that are most telling of what they're becoming. Namely, the loss of any desire to hold back. Whether alone  
or surrounded by people, they allow themselves the luxury they denied themselves for years. 

They aren't 'just friends' anymore. There is no conventional term for what they are now.  
There probably never will be, which suits them just fine. They've always refused to be labeled. 

\-----

She sees the changes in him, by the way he accommodates her physically.  
He dips down a little more. Leans in more. He puts his face level with hers easily now.  
She barely has to lean up to talk in his ear or to hug him fully, or to bury her face in the groove of his neck.. or to kiss him. 

He knows how tiny she is. No matter how tall her shoes are, she's still so much smaller than him.  
Yet somehow they've managed to fit together like puzzle pieces. All she has to do is walk into him and he molds himself to her like a well-worn leather glove.  
She sees the changes in him, by the way he stretches his arms out for her, how he lowers his shoulders so they're nearly level to her own.  
He opens his entire being wider for her, brings her closer to his body, fits them together perfectly from the hips up.  
All ofl these gestures silently tell her he craves more from her.

He's become more assertive with his attentions. She thinks it must be visible to the most casual of observers, he's marking  
his territory. For once she doesn't mind being possessed, encourages it even. With anyone else it would feel confining, something she'd run from.  
If she's running anywhere these days, it's to him.

She has become more attentive with him verbally. She knows his needs now. She knows he needs words to feel reassured, to feel imporant.  
He loves subtlety, eats it up whenever she tweets anything about him directly (or indirectly) and loves when she does it randomly and obnoxiously.  
To him, it's word foreplay. 

He prefers to communicate physically, hence his constant touching. Though he is more prone to initiate affection, she gives as good as she gets.

\-----

It was his concert that pushed the parameters of their developing relationship into the light of day. Something they both knew was bound to  
happen sooner or later.

He knew she was coming to his concert, but he had no idea what to expect from her.  
As he'd walked into the green room during a brief intermission, he spotted her in the far corner, chatting up a group of adoring young guys.  
She spots him right as he does her, their eyes catching and holding with that familiar electric feel. 

He closes the distance in a few rushing seconds, wrapping his arms  
around her neck and shoulders as she loops hers just below his armpits.  
She loves when he acts possessive of her, he's learned. Specifically when it's physical in nature.

SHe was flushed from her shoulders to her neck, a telling sign that she's excited, anxious.

"Hey baby," he said on an exhale, grinning like an idiot. He buried his nose right above her left ear, nuzzles her hair. 

She turned her face into his neck, clutched his ribs and breaths "hey yourself, sexy." Her grin matched his.

He noted that her voice sounded higher than usual, her breathing heavy and her body pressed closer to his than  
propriety usually allows her to. He could feel every curve of her body against his. Bless the silk-thin dress.  
All the tell- tell signs he's come to learn as arousal for her were on open display, and they weren't even  
remotely alone, though they were in a corner and the good people seemed to have migrated across the room.

"You made it," his tone is so light, so endearing. Content. SHe's not sure she's ever heard it before.

"How could I miss this, you singing and dancing in public? Of course I'm here. Plus you invited me. And my tambourine." 

She's leaning back in his arms just enough to see his face, grinning like the chesire cat.  
She's naughty and up to no good tonight. It's all over her face and in her body language she's boldly displaying.  
She doesn't usually lean in to him so hard with her hips. Not publically anyway. 

He wonders if she's aware of what she's doing with her hands. She's always been fidgety. Now those fidgety hands are directed at him.  
One grabbing at his shirt front where he's a sweaty mess, right between his pecks, and the other still around his back  
rubbing low, up and down hypnotically. It all feels so casual and absent-minded. Surreal.

How'd they get this far? There's a room full of people around them, and even more waiting in a room over, but they're in their own world.  
He makes sure to hold her lightly, arms gently folding her body against his, hands resting on her exposed back. He wants to pull that  
string on her dress so badly, wonders what she'd do if he yanked on it when they're on stage. He knows she loves when he touches her back.  
He feels her shoulder blades shift as she continues to fidget with his shirt, pulling at it lightly to get his attention.

"This is exciting.. I bet they'll lose their shit the second I step out on that stage next to you". 

She's downright giddy about the thought and it's doing funny things to his stomach. His heart is racing. Being in a setting like this,  
with her, it feels like they're both high. 

"Let's just hope people don't try to rush the stage and jump you. I know how popular you are these days"

He pulls her in so her chest is flush with his "and I'm the only one who gets that privledge now, damn it.",  
he growls into her ear, playfully rubbing her neck and pressing his thumb back and forth over her shoulder blade, just below that damn string  
that barely holds her dress together. Even her clothing choice is flirty.

She giggles that girly giggle that makes his whole body tingle and his head feel light. Her nose pressed into his neck, he feels her words rasp on his skin.  
"No we can't have that. You'd have to set them straight.. maybe if we make out in front of them.."

"I'm not at all opposed to that idea, actually" he smirks and she draws back, widens her eyes in disbelief.  
He's never been the type to be overly showy or pandering to a crowd.

".. well then in that case, prepare yourself G-man." She's never been one to back down from a challenge. This should be one hell of a show. 

"David, they're ready for you" someone calls from the doorway. 

He lets his arms slide away from her skin as he locks eyes with her, silently communicating with her in that way he always has. Letting her know  
he's right there with her, she's safe to be herself with him, in this space.

"I'll cue you in with our theme song, kay?" He briskly rubs her forearms and grins at her before dropping his hands, adusting his pants ever so slightly at the hips,  
a nervous habit, she's come to learn. She finds it adorably endearing. 

"I'll be ready" She gropes at his shirt one last time, staring directly into his eyes, then rakes them down to his mouth where they rest. 

There's no way they'll be able to perform on a stage together, feeling like they are in this moment, without revealing a piece of who they've become.

Showtime, indeed.


	2. A New Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Green Room round two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! So I figured I'd continue down the rabbit hole since the 1st chapter was well received. Thank you for reading! More to come, perhaps. Lots of ideas but not a lot of nerve ;)
> 
> (my apologies to the actors for this momentary lapse in judgement, but also many thanks for the endless fodder for fantasy.)

Another monumental change to their relationship. One that would definitely go down in the big book of life experiences that spanned two decades. The performance onstage as their unfiltered selves had gone astonishingly smooth. Comic-cons aside, they’d never fully allowed themselves to display such open vulnerability together. And to a live crowd of unsuspecting strangers no less..

She’d correctly predicted the crowd completely losing their shit when she walked out.. And as he predicted, she was very well received, even to a crowd filled with fans of what he assumed were predominately his. 

The energy of the entire place buzzed with an air of possibility and excitement. The audience’s reaction to their not-so-subtle displays of “friendship” had been received with unabashed delight and intrigue. 

He couldn’t have predicted that first kiss on stage to be so picture perfect, though he really should have. He was tickled to pieces when she’d sauntered right up to him, tipped her head back and planted her lips on his with confidence and force usually reserved for first time private greetings. It was customary for them to kiss each other hello and goodbye. Blind habit. Second nature. No big deal. Whenever entering a room, they kissed. Whenever leaving each other, they kissed. Unbeknownst to them, those kisses had become increasingly more intimate. Beyond friendly friends simply greeting each other, and to crowd of fans, it no doubt held a certain ring.

As they’d meandered around the greenroom after, him signing CDs and greeting fans, her assisting him and offering support, they continually drifted back to each other’s space all throughout. Both needed the physical connection after an experience of such glaring, though positive, attention. It was a rare delight to be able to cling to each other in public without a clearly defined reason.

The longer the evening went on, the more aggressive the clinging. They were quickly becoming unsuitable for public consumption. Both were eager to take the party elsewhere. She was the first to break code, leave his side, and wander off into a dark corner. As predicted, he followed.Quick to reestablish contact with her, he wrapped both arms around her shoulders, nestling her head into the crook of his arm. She responded by wrapping hers around his waist just below his ribs and tilting her face up towards his, her eyebrow lifted in question. 

His voice was low and gravely, his lips were directed towards her ear but landed against her face instead. 

“You ready to blow this joint G-woman?”

They were slightly swaying as they held on to each other, pent up energy preventing them from standing still. She could feel him breathing on her neck. Every word and action was physical and heavy with meaning.

Her smile was impish and pleased, fingers kneading his back like a sated kitten.

“Ready when you are Mick Jagger”.

“Hey now! Is that a dis on my dance skills? I mean, I would've gone all out. I just didn’t think they could handle us bumping and grinding against each other after you’d already thrown down the gauntlet with that kiss..” 

His smirk was rather smug and she needed to gain the upper hand again.

“Yeah well, you’re the one who came back for seconds. Mine was at least somewhat justified. I was saying hello! You were just being indulgent with that hug. Not that I’m complaining, but good luck talking your way out of that in the next interview Mister Evasive”.

She had a knack for winning in these situations.

“Okaaay, alright. Let me finish up with things here and I’ll meet you in the car in 15 or so for a .. uhh, continuation?” 

“K but you may wanna hurry. I see prying eyes around every corner. I’m gonna go grab the security guy and make sure we have a clean escape in place.” 

He leans down and glances her jaw with his pouty lips, just barely kissing her as she’d done him on stage when he’d went in to kiss her that second time. Two could play at this. 

“If only I had you with me for every performance. Can you imagine?”

She laughs as she pulls away from him, his grip much tighter on her than she remembered it being earlier in the evening.

“You couldn’t handle me for that long”, she says with a wink as she wanders, somewhat unsteadily he notes with a smile, out the narrow doorway into the inky black night.

He’s grinning after her like an idiot for the billionth time of the night. This is yet another new beginning for them. Though this time, they’d invited everyone and their brother a sneak peek of it.


	3. The Official Tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened after leaving the greenroom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gillovny is real and I can't seem to stay away. Thanks for reading. Feedback always welcome!

After the longest half hour of her life waiting for him in the car,  
he finally emerged from the back door of the venue.

He gives her a sly smile as he gets in the driver's side.  
She looks up from her phone and raises an inquisitive eyebrow.

"What's the matter G-woman, little legs can't reach the peddles?" 

He swivels around to glance out the back window and then the sides  
to see if anyone's around. They've always been so careful to not be  
seen "in public" together, especially in a domestic setting. 

Satisfied that no one is spying on them, he leans across his armrest  
and hooks his left hand around her neck, pulling her towards him,  
much like he did moments before on stage.

She turned her face up to capture his mouth, slightly tugging at his  
luscious lower lip as he nipped at hers before releasing.

"Ha ha," she remarked with a playful grin, leaning her head back  
while leaving the rest of herself close to him. She tugged at the collar of his  
shirt. Her eyes were having a hard time focusing on his face.

"So what now? Isn't it traditional to attend an after party with the band  
and get trashed and/or stoned? I prefer the latter myself."

They both lean back into their own space but the eye contact intensifies  
as he starts the car and puts it into gear.

"Usually, but i've got a much better idea. How about we have our own party  
at my place instead? It's clothing optional there, and i've got healthier food.  
And better weed."

Tongue in cheek, she pretends to consider her options.

"K.. As long as you promise not to sing. Or dance."

Her smile is infectious and he grabs her hand as he pulls out onto the  
empty street. She laces her fingers through his and settles their hands on  
her thigh, leaning her head back to watch the scenery pass by. 

"So.. That went well. I mean, I knew they'd eat it up. Seeing us together  
on stage as 'David and Gillian' as opposed to 'Mulder and Scully'. But I  
still can't believe how crazy they went when we kissed.. It's weird having  
an audience watch us be .. us."

"Twice. We kissed twice. And I told you so! Everyone lost their shit  
because they love the idea of us. Even if they don't think we're a thing,  
they want us to be. I'm pretty sure they're convinced we are now, though."

She's still gazing out her window, fingers squeezing his hand as she'd spoke.

"Well.. I'm not too worried about what they think. It only matters what you think.  
I know that couldn't have been easy for you, showing that side of yourself.  
When you first came out you looked like you wanted to run."

"I did until I saw your face. I don't think i've ever seen that expression on you before.  
You looked so.. happy. Dare I say, satisfied? It made me want to kiss you senseless,"  
she murmured that last bit like a precious secret.

"Ah well, the feeling is mutual, babe. Jesus, after you did that, I didn't know what to do  
with my hands. You have a maddening effect on my limbic system."

Now it was her turn to look satisfied.  
They arrived at his place in record time, both eager to be alone,  
needing to reconnect physically. When they got into his private elevator,  
he stood behind her, wrapping his arms low around her waist,  
pressing his face into the curve of her neck, swaying them side to side slowly. 

She was the type that liked constant movement, and he was the type to be overly handsy and affectionate,  
making them a perfect fit. 

The elevator opened up directly in front of his door. He nudged her forward, hands  
drifting to the curves of her hips, directing her as he walked behind her.

"You know, in those stilts you call shoes, you're actually the perfect height for  
grabbing." He unlocked his door and gestured for her to go in.

"Grabbing or groping?" There was that satisfied smile again. Smug.

He closed the door and went to set his phone in the speaker  
dock to play music. He liked to set the atmospheric tone through song.  
Looks like Genesis was his current mood, as 'Duchess' filled the room.

He sauntered over to where she'd settled in curled up on the plush white leather sofa.

"You want something to drink while I'm still up?" his voice was getting hoarse and it  
made her nerves smart in response.

"Just some water please. Are you gonna drink?" She knew he liked to relax with a  
jack and coke, but she preferred him sober tonight. This way she knew he was acting  
of his on volition. Drinking always made him lovey, but she wanted his authentic self.

"Nope. I had one earlier before the show. But I'm sober now, in case you were wondering,"  
he said with a wink. "Be right back." 

He came back with her water in hand and a small cigar box she knew he kept his  
paraphernalia in. He sat down next to her, close enough to feel the heat radiating  
from her body.

"Watcha got there?" He was fiddling with the box, opening it and pulling out a baggie  
to hold up for her inspection. 

"Finest herb to be found on this side of Manhattan, Madam Scully." 

"Heeeey don't call me that. It's confusing," she says with a giggle. 

"Thought you liked it when I did. You call me Mulder all the time. On accident too, apparently."

"Shut up and roll that joint Agent Mulder." She always did love her some weed.

"Bossy bossy. I've gotta warn you, this stuff is STRONG. It'll make you taste colors."  
He expertly rolled up the joint and licked it closed.

She watched him with a dazed expression, staring at his mouth throughout the entire  
process.

"Just colors? There are a few other things I'd like to taste tonight..." 

He looked up from his task. Surprise and delight flashing in his expression.

"Woman, you are Naughty. Whatever will I do with you?" He lit the joint  
and took a long draw, held his breath, exhaling slowly, puffing  
smoke rings expertly, then passed it to her.

She took it between her fingers, holding it like a cigarette. Old habits die hard.  
Sipping from it delicately, she held it in and looked up at him. He was watching  
her with unabashed fascination. She raised her ring finger to her lips and  
puffed out double smoke rings. Always the over-achiever.

"Whoa, fancy trick there! Where'd you learn that?"

She stared at him straight-faced, trying to recall what he asked her.  
She was already feeling the effects. 

"Umm.. I forget. College boyfriend, I think?"

"Interesting. So you've been a stoner that long, huh?" He loved to tease her  
about her wilder side. She was still wild, just not as publically as she used to be.

"Mmm you'd be surprised at some of my hidden talents I've acquired through  
the years." 

They passed the J back and forth two more times before reclining back and melting  
into the couch, folding towards each other. She'd pretzeled her leg between his  
and he draped his arm low along her hip. 

"Oh god, I think I'm baked." Her eyes were glazed when she opened them, her body  
sagging into his side, head falling into the groove of his neck, resting on his shoulder.  
Her hand was stroking his chest arrantly. 

He was feeling relaxed, but still very alert. Weed always made him highly  
attuned to the physical, enhancing his sense of touch.

He huffed out a laugh, looked down at her and smoothed his palm from the curve of her waist  
down to the outer curve of her hip and thigh.

"Don't fall asleep on me now. I haven't given you the 'official tour' yet"

'Official tour' had become a code phrase of sorts for them. Over the years,  
they'd both moved around so much that any time they met up, it seemed  
they had to re-familiarize themselves to the other's surroundings.

Inevitably and predictably, the tour always ended in the bedroom.  
Which then led to a thorough sampling of the bed. Usually the 'tour'  
took place about ten to twenty minutes upon arrival. They were falling behind  
at present. Both wanted to savor this moment, this day, this  
strange new personal territory they were exploring. There was no rush to go to bed  
now because the future was stretched out before them, full of possibility and opportunity.

"Hmm I think we've toured this place before.. how about we just reacquaint with the couch for now.  
Hey! That rug's new. We haven't explored that particular spot in a while, have we?"

He grinned from ear to ear and pulled her by the thigh onto his lap. She lazily wrapped  
her arms around either side of his ribcage, resting in his lap with her legs crimped on  
either side of him, knees pressing outward. She snuggled herself into the space where  
she fit perfectly just below his jaw, nose pushed into his throat near his adam's apple.

"Baby, you must be blazed to be this docile. I figured you'd be ripping your clothes off  
the second we walked in, as feral as you were earlier." He rubbed her back in brush  
strokes, up and down from the base of her spine to the curve of her neck. 

"Feral? That sounds bad.."

"No no. It's a good thing. The crowd ate it up when you started dancing and playing that tambourine.  
Just means you're untamed. "

"Ah I see. Well I'm not so far gone that I can't move this party to that ridiculous Kermit the frog rug.  
I can show you more feralness down there.."

"See I knew that rug would come in handy. Don't knock it til' you try it." 

With that, he stood up with her still attached to him like a barnacle, legs wrapping  
around his slender hips as he stood. He knelt down and planted her down on the rug.  
He was gonna show her his own feral side, ever the one-upper.

Two hours later, they got around to the official tour.


	4. Firsts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An exploration on firsts, inspired by the first time they kissed "hello" publically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, my deepest thanks and apologies to the subjects of this story.
> 
> Feedback always welcome. Thanks for reading my trash!

It’d been a little over 3 months since they’d seen each other. Three months since they’d been able to make face to face physical contact alone, without the obstacles of work demands and miles upon miles of separation.

  
They managed to hold fast to the plan of maintaining regular open communication. Talking to each other several times a week, even when it wasn’t always convenient or easy became a must. The time difference was a real problem in the beginning. To the point of her frustration taking over conversations. She’d end calls abruptly after losing control of her frustrations, breaking her down into fits of crying and yelling that then lead to him desperately trying to get through to her after hours, sometimes days, of her avoiding him.

So they developed a work around. He did a lot of the groundwork because she was prone to isolation. Most days, he’d text her as soon as he woke up if she hadn’t texted him yet. Occasionally he’d wake to a tweet that covertly told him she was thinking of him. On those rare occasions, he’d call her immediately regardless of time. He’d learned to read her through what wasn’t said. When she talked about him publically, he knew she was wanting his attention on the immediate. Patience was another demon they had to tackle on a regular basis.

  
Often when he was up late, she was just starting her day. He’d call or facetime, depending on the need of connection. She’d ramble on and on about an art display that caught her fancy, or whatever play she’d just seen, or a charity cause she thought he should *really* know about. Sometimes he couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Usually his contributions to conversation were commentary on the woes of writing or acting with young guns who didnt know what they were doing. He liked to complain to her about highly pretentious things such as the differing philosophies on psychosocial and psychosexual theory. His education was becoming hers.

  
He could usually get a feel of her mood by her breathing. When she was restless and tense, he couldn’t hear her breath. He could hear when she wasn’t fully focused. When she was attentive and focused, her breathing was heavier. It was even heavier when she was on the verge of crying or bursting with frustration. So he’d talk until she let him finish, then bring the conversation around to what they should do first when they finally saw each other. That always pulled her back to the present. Which would lead to some varied form of phone sex or detailed plans of the sex they’d have when they finally could. Small talk wasn’t either of their preference. Small talk for them was discussing how they should act in public, what they should/could say, who they could tell. Who they could trust. Lately, that topic had been covered in depth.

  
Time of day determined who was more talkative. She preferred for him to talk her to sleep at night. In the middle of her day, she was a keg of dynamite with a million and one things to tell him. And he didn’t mind. They were both relieved just to finally feel they could talk to one another about anything. There were no conversational boundaries anymore. Gone was his party line of emailing 5 times a year. 5 times a week was more accurate now.

Long-distance communication skills mastered, they still did their best communicating physically. When they could simply look each other in the eye. Words weren’t needed at all. Long ago, they perfected the art of saying nothing by saying everything with just a look.

  
3 months without physical communication, when finally they find themselves alone in LA at one of Chris’s houses he keeps on the beach. David stays here when he films. Occasionally, she stays with him. Now she’s here for award season and to promote, for once, the xfiles.

She breezed in late in the afternoon on a Thursday. She finds him reading out on the lengthy stretch of deck that runs the length of the beach front house. The view for miles is nothing but ocean and sand. A balmy 73 out, the air smells sweet and full of promise. Houses were sparse and privacy ideal.

She slides the patio door open quietly after spotting him half reclined in a wide hammock, lost in a fat book. Silently she saunters up behind his field of vision and leans over him.

Huskily she says, “What are reading?”

He startles and the hammock rocks sharply before he folds a leg out to stabilize himself.

“Hey you, c’mere!”

His voice is gravely and serious as he leans out with both toned arms, reaching for whatever he can grab. She comes to his side and steadies him with one hand on his shoulder while the other reaches for his neck. He latches his skilled hands on to either side of her hips as she leans down to press her lips to his pouty lower one. They hold the kiss for a long pause and barely break it as she eases herself, both hands on his shoulders, down into the hammock. It takes a lot of maneuvering on his part as she plasters herself to his side, half on and half over him, his leg still hanging out to keep from flipping them both out.

She giggles when they’re both inside of it and the swaying dwindles to a minimum. He’s got her draped half across his chest, the lower half wedged firmly into his side. The hammock cradles them both inward like a womb. Finally, they’ve accomplished full body contact.

“Hi.” He says with a sly grin, head reclining back to take her in.

She has on one of her long flowy numbers that tangles well past her tiny legs, held up by an even tinier string around her neck. She’s forever wearing dresses around him that barely attach to her. He has on some silly green cargo shorts and a simple white tee that clings to his chest and arms.

She doesn’t say anything in response. Just replies with a satisfied grin and uses the hand that’s not wedged in his side to reach up to his hairline and brush her fingers through his hair. They aren’t looking directly into each other’s eyes. They let them roam each other up and down hungrily instead. Not a lot of words are needed in these moments.  
Both arms wrapped around her, he squeezes her ribs so she’ll look at him. Silently, they finally look into each other. The electric feel of connection zaps through them. After a beat, arms and hands begin to slide and wander slowly.

Her face is buried in his neck, mouth suctioned lightly on his skin with her arm draped low on his chest when she speaks.

“If we stay in this thing much longer one of us is going to end up injured.” Her voice is muffled by his skin, her pitch high and airy. An indicator to him that clothing needs to come off.

“Mmmm but it’s so cozy and relaxing here..” He nuzzles his chin to her temple, gentling her face out of his neck.

She tilts her head back for him to lean down and attach his open mouth to hers. The kiss is immediately deep, and slow to build. Their lips massage one another’s, tongues flowing forward when lips part. This particular intimacy is still new. Each kiss hello is varied every time. They both enjoy the ‘firsts’. First touch. First kiss hello. First exploration of skin. First sex.

This is the first time seeing each other after solidifying their relationship and spending a long time apart. Noticeably different is the time and attention they take to familiarize themselves physically. Like reading braille, they repeat kisses and caresses.

After a lengthy make-out session filled with the wet sounds of kissing and heavy sighs, hands start pulling clothing aside. Her hand is halfway up the inside of his shirt, kneading his serratus muscle while he plucks with the hand looped behind her neck at the string there. He peels the top of her dress down with her help, exposing her bare from the waist up, his other hand is busy pulling at the flowing skirt of her dress, inching it up.

In this position of precarious swaying limbo, they aren’t able to remove anything entirely or make sudden moves. So he settles for whatever skin he can expose. She’s satisfied with rolling his shirt up and off. By the time she reaches to unbutton his shorts, he’s got most of her dress out of his way, tucked around her middle.He adjusts himself sideways to help her pull him out. Luckily, both despise underwear and connection is easy to make. He pulls her leg over his hip slowly and cradles her close with his other arm. She sighs and reaches between them, tucking him inside of her as she tilts her opening up to him. The hammock sways slightly as he tries thrusting into her. Both freeze for a moment as the hammock jolts. Staring at one another, puzzling out silently working the logistics of this position so they don’t topple out. She steadies him with a hand on his hip, her inner arm curled beneath and over his back, reaching across his shoulder blade and grasping his spine. She’s stabilized them, grinds into him with just her hips pushing into his groin. The swaying motion finds her slow rhythm, matching her movements, and soon they’re able to flow with it.

Languidly they communicate in the language that needs no translation. This is how they work best together. His lips fasten below her ear. She’s blissed out and focused on holding them steady and feeling the immediacy of him pushing against her, inside her. Surrounded. No distance.

“Hi.” She finally greets him.


	5. Pool Frolicking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Musings on pool frolicking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insomnia made me do it. My deepest appreciation and apologies to the subjects. I am trash.
> 
> Respectfully,  
> Gillovny af

She’d shown up at his doorstep on an early spring morning in LA with bags in hand and a resolved steely expression etched on her polished face.

 

“It’s over. We ended it.” Her tone was flat and void of inflection.

 

“Oh- k- uhmm.. . Come in! Come in.”

 

He grabbed her bags from her hastily, quickly plopping them down in the foyer. Once his hands were empty he turned to face her, reaching his arms out wide, and she crushed herself to his chest immediately. He rubbed her back in soothing strokes, feeling her exhale sharply against his bicep, face pressed into the curve of his arm.

 

He’d been caught completely off guard by the sudden appearance. She’d briefly told him at the beginning of the year when visiting the set of Californication that things were rocky on the home front as of late 2011. They’d since stepped up their communication from emailing here and there to texting each other with increased frequency. Relationship talk was a topic they always avoided. 2012 brought about an avalanche of crumbling walls. She’d started opening up to him more and more. Suffering such a sudden devastating loss shifted everything for her. From physical to emotional, he wanted to be there for her in any way possible. Just as she’d always been for him, even when he didn’t deserve it. Even when he didn’t ask. And now she needed him.

 

It occurred to him in the moment that they were both technically single now. For the first time in a long time. Although his divorce wasn’t yet final, he’d been separated for a while and could see the end of his marital days were near. Gillian was a woman of thick moral fiber, and things between them had been friendly and respectful. Married men were a no-go for her.

Now here she was at his doorstep looking like a feral kitten separated from its litter. She had a look of finality in her eyes. He read her features to be worn out but resilient. No doubt, she was eager to move on to a new chapter. She wasn’t one to dwell and wallow in the past.

 

He was afraid to question if he was a part of this new chapter. Judging by her sudden appearance, it seemed a safe assumption he must be. But with her, he knew he had to tread lightly. She was as skittish as a colt, and just as stubborn.  
After squeezing the life out of him, she released him, stepping back and tucking her humidity curled hair behind her ears. He’d always found the gesture endearing. So familiar. Years ago, while filming in the early days, she’d let him do that and she’d smile every time. She loved it when he played with her hair.

 

“So uh.. can I get you anything? You hungry at all? I make a mean omelet.” he said with a wink as he guided her by the small of her back into the cozy spacious living room. This part-time home had an open space design, high ceilings with creamy white suede furniture and plush baby blue rugs. The place was a cove of tranquility.

 

“No. I don’t want anything.”

 

His papa bear instincts were on high alert. He could sense her solemnness. One look into her eyes told him she was on the verge of crying. Pulling her down to sit next to him, they sat in silence for a few beats. He put his arm along the back of the fluffy suede couch, fingers tickling between her shoulder blades. Waiting her out, when she finally spoke.

 

“I can’t believe this is happening. Again. I’m too fucking old for this shit. Am I that impossible to be with?” She wasn’t looking at him as she spoke, but stared down at the floor, eyes distant and glassy.

 

“Gillian. Don’t. Don’t do this to yourself. It takes two to make a relationship work. And to be honest, from what little you’ve told me this isn’t all on you. He hasn’t been there for you when he should have been, especially after-”

 

He didn’t complete the sentence because he felt a certain amount of guilt that she’d preferred to come to him in her time of grief and not to her partner. She called him a few days after it happened, and he'd easily convinced her to come stay with him. WIth a plea to let him mother her because she wouldn't let anyone else do it. So she’d spent four days with him. Most of it was spent with her sobbing in his arms, or curled up in bed with him wrapped around her, holding her tightly to his chest, trying to get her to sleep, forcing her to eat.

 

She was hunched forward with her elbows on her knees, face in her hands. He wanted to do something for her. The only comfort he knew how to reach her with was physical. So he pulled one arm away from her face, tugged on it until she raised up to look at him. He tugged once more at her upper arm to pull her towards him. She complied, and he drew her against his chest.

 

She snuggled into his arms. Releasing a heavy sigh, he felt the tension start to drain from her body. They sat in comfortable silence, absorbing each other's presence after months of separation. This he could do for her. He could give her whatever she needed as long as he was able to touch her. Emails and texts could only do so much.

 

“ You know.. I think that sometimes things happen for a reason, even if we can’t see what that reason is right away- even if it feels wrong or-“

 

“Please. Don't. Don’t try to give me a pep talk, David. Not now. I just want to crawl into bed and hibernate for a year.”

 

“Well that’s not gonna help anybody. You know what I do when I’m stressed and need to clear my head? I go swimming. The water has a soothing effect on the body. Works out the kinks. Stretches the muscles. Even the brain.”

 

“So you’re suggesting we should go swimming at 8 in the morning? Where?” She looked at him as if he’d just suggested they go run a marathon through downtown LA traffic.

 

“Well see, there’s this perfectly spacious pool right in the back of this very house. Come on, go get your suit on. I’ll even wear that red speedo you’re so fond of.” Again with a flirtatious wink he pulled them up, gave her a gentle nudge towards where he’d sat her bags and helped her carry them into the guest bedroom.

It occurred to him that maybe she didn't want to be sleeping alone for this visit, as vulnerable as she was. So he suggested "Let's just leave these here for now. If you decide you wanna snuggle me later, the door is always open.."

 

She didn't say anything, just looked up at him and gave a serious thoughtful nod.

 

“Okay? So meet me out by the pool in 15?”

 

“K.. but don’t expect any athletic competition. I prefer to float around placidly. We’re not all so blessed to have a perfect swimmer's body.” She looked him up and down as she finished talking, appraising his physique.

 

“Oh please woman, you’re in better shape than I am.” returning her appreciative glances. 

 

With that in mind, they went to their seperate rooms to change.

 

20 minutes later, after he’d already swam a few laps, she appeared on the deck clad in a simple black two-piece, hair in a messy knot at her neck. He took in the sight. Noting appreciatively how the top half dipped well past her cleavage, held in the middle by a gold hoop. How had he never noticed she had such a perfect physique? Her abs were well defined, obliques clearly visible,. She had a picture perfect yoga body. Her breasts looked like they belonged on a 20-year-old. Unbelievable. The woman defied the laws of gravity. .

 

“C’mere,” he said huskily, drifting to the edge of the pool. He wanted to grab her up and float her around the pool like a life raft. She didn’t look as enthused. She sidled up to the pool's edge and sat slowly next to where he had his arms propped on the rim.

 

“I’m cold.. is the water even warm enough for this?” she questioned with a shiver, arms crossed underneath ample cleavage. She glanced down appreciatively at his muscled chest and well-defined arms.

 

“Baby, just get in. Once you're in, your body will adjust. It’s warm enough. Promise.”

 

She looked down at him, a startled look on her face.

 

“Did you just-“

 

“Shush. Get in here.”

 

She hesitantly dipped her toes in, then her legs, before slowly slipped down into the water.

 

“See? Not bad huh?” He watched her wade around a bit, ducking down to get used to the water before settling into a corner, resting her arms on either side behind her with her eyes closed and head tilted up. The gesture made her chest push out. A sight he was having a hard time looking away from.

 

He smoothly swam over to her. When he reached her, the water was shallow enough that he could stand up with stability.

 

“Hey there stranger. Want a piggy back ride to the other side?” He was charming with his boyish grin and hair sleek from the water. She reached out and playfully brushed the hair up on his forehead, leaving the front spikey.  
Adorable, she thought.

 

He’d slowly slid closer to her. Caging her in casually against the pool corner.

 

“When’s the last time you swam in a pool just for fun with a big sexy man-beast in a speedo?”

 

She let out a breathy sigh that was almost a laugh. Her eyes were darting everywhere but at his eyes. “I’m not sure.. a decade ago maybe? First movie press tour. 8 pack.”

 

“Ughhh. Gross. Frolick with me, woman! Here, get on my back and we’ll float around like little baby otters.”

 

“Like what? You’re silly. Can you really float with two people, though?”

 

“You can if you’ve got skills.”

 

“Oooh so sure of yourself I see.”

 

With that, he swiveled around and sunk low. She draped herself none too gracefully across his back, arms spread across his meaty shoulders and legs wrapping just above his prominent hip bones. Even his hips were muscled.

 

“We’re going to drown,” she said as he took a slow measured stroke forward, dipping his body down further to support the added weight.

 

“Juuust _relax_.” He moved them across the pool with efficiency, his movements slowly fluid and fish-like. The man knew how to swim.

Once they’d reached the middle, he instructed her to loosen up her body so he could turn. As she did, he maneuvered himself to his back without dislodging her from his grasp, somehow managing to keep her afloat with just his body. He steadied her with hands clasped just below her prominent ribs. Her arms were clinging to his biceps, legs returning to their place low and loose around his hips. The water was too deep for either of them to touch bottom. But he managed to keep them both afloat with measured movements of his legs. She reclined her body so that her back was tilted away from him resting lightly in the water. She used her arms in small strokes to help hold herself up.

 

“See. Nice huh?” Their bodies were close, but not so close that he couldn’t see her face. Her expression was hard to read. Eyes closed, she seemed focused on their bodies drifting in time to the water’s movements. She was so tiny compared to him. He always forgot how small she was until he held her close.

 

“Mmm this is actually pretty relaxing.”

 

He smiled in satisfaction and pulled her closer, pressing a light kiss to her forehead when she raised her head up, arms reaching for his shoulders. They stayed like that for a few minutes, foreheads resting lightly against each other. All felt calm in this moment.

 

“Things will be okay, Gillian. You'll grow from this. Come out stronger for it. There’s so much more for you to do in life. Don’t spend it worrying about what could have or should have been done differently. Live in the moment. I mean, hey! Just look at us. Look how far we’ve come. Who’d have guessed we’d be here 2 decades ago?

 

“I dunno, I kind of always assumed we’d be friends once we grew up and got over ourselves.”

 

“Yeah. Well. I was such an asshole. I didn’t think you’d really want to come around me again once the work was finished.”

 

“David, things with us have always been rocky, sure. But you know, they’ve also been good. I think it's 50/50 really. You’re the one steady person I’ve managed to hold on to in my life. Through years and years of ups and downs. And even though circumstances aren't ideal right now, I'm glad I came.. Thank you for being here for me. You've always known how to calm me down. “

 

“Took a lot of years to learn you, G-woman. I think by now I can handle anything you throw at me.” He leaned away from her, looked into her eyes and saw promise and hope mixed with a touch of hesitancy in her expression. He didn’t dare give what they had a name, even if he knew what to call it. But it was.. something.

 

He leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to her lips. It was innocent enough, but more than friendly in pressure.  
When they separated, she shook her head slightly as if shaking off an unwanted thought. She suddenly looked shy. Flushed face. Eyes looking at him questioningly. He slowly let go of her to give her some space and swam a lap to the other end. He didn't have an answer for that look. Not yet. It was too soon, his logic told him.

 

“Wanna try to see if you can keep up with my lap time?” There he goes with that competitive nature, she thought.

 

“On one condition. You have to buy me a pound of dark chocolate from that expensive shop in the Brentwood if I can't keep up.”

 

“Wait. What-? So what happens if you can keep up? Why is this backward? This seems rigged..”

 

“I'll give you a back massage if I can keep up. Either way, I pretty much win.”

 

Ahh finally he'd made her smile. A smug one, but he’d take it. He smiled back and grabbed her legs under the water, dunking her playfully. She popped back up and splashed him in the face. Giggling and visibly relaxed now.

 

Mission accomplished.


End file.
